


Deject My Plague

by EliphantGK, PoisonedSpaz



Category: Avengers, Marvel (Movies), Spiderman - Fandom
Genre: Disturbed!Harry, M/M, Parksborn, Stony - Freeform, Superfamily, Superhusbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliphantGK/pseuds/EliphantGK, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedSpaz/pseuds/PoisonedSpaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Harry bond after his father's death; Harry experiences feelings of guilt, self-loathing, and depression and makes many poor decisions. With the help of the Peter, he is able to get into recovery... Until his path to a normal life is interrupted by a highly unexpected foe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Gwen and I just broke up... Gwen just broke up with me. This is some way to start off my new life as a college student,_  Spiderman thought, crawling out of the master bedroom. ...this hallway looks different from up here… He tried distracting himself from his previous thoughts and by changing to more entertaining ones. He crawled past his own bedroom, not even stopping to take a glance inside knowing there’s going to be a picture of her. _How did I let myself fuck up like this?_  Spiderman continued on the ceiling, climbing above the stairs.

 

Spiderman attached a web and began comfortably dangling upside-down from the ceiling, thinking about the plans he and Gwen had made for over the summer. They clearly weren't going to be happening now that...

 

Spiderman’s attention was directed to the bumping of the front door’s knob, followed by it opening. Almost nothing could’ve prepared him for what he was about to see: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers in heated physical contact, Tony’s arms wrapped around Steve’s waist down to the back of his well-filled blue jeans. Both men’s lips were locked, Steve was walking backwards with one hand entangled into Tony’s shaggy black hair and the other still searching behind him for the door.

 

“Ahh!” Spiderman let out a slight yelp as he accidentally flicked his wrist, cutting the web and fell to the stairs below.

 

The couple’s attention was broken from one another, Steve turning around with one of Tony’s arms still around his waist.

 

“Spiderman?” Steve asked in disbelief.

 

“What are you doing in our house?” Tony asked with his usual all-knowing smug tone.

 

“Uhh…umm...” Was all Peter could muster.

 

“Are you here because you’re interested in trying to join the Avengers?” Steve asked, curious about New York’s famous hero’s intentions. The Master of Machines put a hand up to his forehead.

 

“Wuh?” He reached up for the railing but found nothing but air.

 

“That’s not an _invitation_ ,” Tony clarified. “Why are you here?”

 

“I -- uh,” Peter tried replying. He gave up on the effort of trying to get up and ripped off his mask. “It’s me!”

 

“What? Peter?” Steve asked, partly in disbelief and part in shock. He took a step away from Tony, his face turning multiple shades of red.

 

“Weren’t you supposed to be out to dinner with Gwen’s family?” Tony didn’t appear fazed one bit by Spiderman exposing himself.

 

“It got c _anceled_ ,” he replied harshly. Peter didn’t want to relive the moment again like he had just a few hours ago. The difficulty he had been experiencing with getting up vanished as he flashed onto his feet and bolted up to his room.

 

***

 

“Okay, Peter. Sorry to hear that.” Tony called after the graduate. Tony knew Peter didn't want to talk about what really had happened right now, but he would talk when he's ready. He took a step closer to the stairs to glance after him.

 

“Did you know about this?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowing, his face still a light pink. He arms were crossed across his abdomen.

 

“I assumed due to the facts like how he sometimes comes home smelling like you do after training in your get-up, how he sleeps past noon whenever possible, and has stopped wearing his glasses; all starting around the same time Spiderman gained publicity. Who would've thought. " Tony stated, stepping closer to his husband and wrapping his arms around him.

 

Steve did not warm up to the embrace, his arms still were crossed across his chest.

 

“He’s an adult now, calm down.” Tony sighed softly kissing his cheek.

 

“Stop, Anthony... Go talk to him!” He broke his crossed arms and placed his hands onto Tony’s chest, shoving him away, towards the stairs.

 

“Fine.” The raven haired man huffed while stumbling up the stairs, understanding the blond’s discomfort with what their son had saw. He reached the top of the walnut staircase and turned left towards Peter’s door. He tapped his knuckles on the door. “Peter.”

 

“Go away! I’m fine,”  He shouted, aggravated at Tony’s presence.

 

“Can I come in?” Tony asked with care.

 

“No.” The teen huffed.

 

“I’m coming in.” He grasped for the door knob and twisted only to find that it wouldn't budge. “Unlock the door, Peter,” he was exhausted enough as it was and wasn’t in the mood for childish behavior.

 

”Dad, just go away,” the sadness and frustration in his words was evident in his tone.

 

“Peter, I’m not asking you. I’m telling you; unlock this door now,” he commanded with frustration.

 

Peter didn’t reply verbally rather with a click as the door was unlocked and a whiney creek came from the hinge as the door sweeped open into the young man’s room. “What is it.” Peter looked at Tony with tear stained cheeks and watery eyes. He had changed out of his Spiderman suit and into gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

 

“Can we talk?” He replied with a much kinder voice than he had previously used. his eyes searched around Peter’s decently-sized yet plain bedroom. The only decoration on the wall was a large cork board filled with pictures and a flat screen dangling above the foot of the boy's bed. The bed laid alongside the wall across from the door against a large window that looked out over the city. A burgundy blanket laid across the boy's bed and a desk with a computer sat between the door and the closet. A high-end black Canon camera sat in a large case with various lenses on the nightstand; next to the case was a smartphone and a now-empty picture frame, the picture torn apart with the pieces scattered across the carpeted floor.

 

Peter scoffed, turning himself back into his room and plopping down onto his bed with a red and black cloth in his hand -- his mask, probably -- signaling his annoyance but allowing his father figure to come inside.

 

Tony followed behind, closing the door silently and sat next to Peter. “So what happened?”

 

Peter just stared as though he were going to slap Tony for asking a question he already knew the answer to. It was a common thing for Tony to do, simply because he liked to figure out if Peter were telling to truth or not. And if Steve were telling the truth or not, sometimes.

 

“Let me rephrase that; why did you and Gwen break up? I thought things were going pretty well between you two?” Tony said not trying to sound like a wiseass nor wanting to hurt his adopted son anymore than Peter already was.

 

“I just couldn’t do it anymore… Y’know? Be Spiderman… I promised her father…” He said softly as his fingers traced the designs on the mask to his Spidersuit. “How do you and Steve do it?” Peter asked, looking into Tony’s brown eyes.

 

Stark blinked in bewilderment. “Uh… Well, I guess it’s because we’re both  _heroes_. We are used to having to risk our lives and often we go on missions alongside each other. Our relationship began and developed in that setting. We make it work and enjoy our time together, not knowing when it will end, but we appreciate what time we do have.” Tony realized what a dark route his explanation took. “Besides, when you’re not around, Steve can’t keep his hands off me.” Tony smirked.

 

“I didn’t need to know that!” Peter laughed, mildly disturbed.

 

“Peter, high school love doesn’t last forever; you’ll find some one else. No offense to Gwen -- she can be kind of a drama queen.” Tony laughed, encouraging the younger man to as well

 

“Yeah,” he half-smiled and half-sighed.

 

“You’ll find someone better than her. You’re like me -- a handsome, highly intelligent young man; and you're a badass super hero.”

 

“Yeah, except you’re not a _young_   man,” Peter replied with a big grin on his face.

 

“Oh, you little smartass.” Tony playfully pulled Peter into a headlock and gave him a noogie.

 

Peter and Tony laughed in unison while Peter tried to escape the headlock by pushing his adoptive father away. Tony gradually loosened his hold on the boy and let him get his own space back.

 

“Now that you seem to be feeling a little better, I’m going to go deal with an embarrassed husband,” Tony rose to his feet and began walking to the door. He grabbed onto the handle and turned to Peter and mocked him, “Wash your damn suit; that thing reeks! I shouldn’t have been able to notice that you’re Spiderman because you smell like Captain America!” Tony opened and slipped out the door before Peter had time to respond.

 

Tony strolled down the hall towards the massive master bedroom. The man grabbed for the handle and cracked open the door. The Stark reactor that lied underneath his black t-shirt let off a soft glow into a room. He spotted a lump in the king-sized mahogany bed wrapped under the navy blankets and a head resting on a slightly damp pillow covered in a silver case. “Honey.” Tony whispered, softly kicking off his black shoes, tugging off his jeans, and crawling into bed next to Steve. “He isn’t thinking too much about it. He’s more upset about Gwen at the moment.” He pulled his love into his arms and rubbed the tears from his cheeks.

 

“That doesn’t change that he saw you with your hands on me…” The World War II survivor whispered to his husband as he rolled over towards the nightstand, seeing the clock read 12:07  in electric blue numbers.

 

“What’s the difference. We saw him make out with Gwen on stage at graduation and that was in public. He was bound to see something some time.” Tony said softly rubbing Steve’s muscular bicep.

 

Steve rolled back to Tony, rolling onto his chest, laying his head on his husband's chest. “It’s just… I don’t want him to lose respect for me…” Steve trailed off, another tear escaping his eye. “I don’t want him to think…”

 

“Think what? That you’re weak because you’re the submissive one?” Tony felt blond eyelashes flutter against his chest. He gently tilted the other male’s face up the reactor illuminating some of Steve's facial features; Tony softly pressed his lips on Steve’s in a brief, almost somber kiss.

 

Steve didn’t tense up or try to push away. “But what if he doesn’t see me as a fatherly figure anymore because of it; what if he thinks I’m more of your piece of meat…?" Tony could barely see his eyebrows move together. "I never got to have kids in my own time and Peter’s the closest thing to a son I probably will ever have, and he probably only views me as his step-dad.” Steve almost sounded ashamed of the title.

 

“I don’t know, Steve. You’re the most nurturing father Peter could ask for.You are too kind, caring, and timeless to be just a piece of meat, so I don't know what you're worried about. You are my husband and I love you for your personality; your looks are just a bonus” Tony gently stroked Steve’s cheek, brushing away tears again with his thumb.

 

“Stop flattering me,” Steve chuckled lightly.

 

“ You care for him in a way that I could never think of. I would have let him sit alone in his room for a few hours; you made me go help him feel better.To be honest, I think you should’ve gone to talk to him instead,” Tony smiled, feeling his gotee scratch against Steve’s forehead.

 

“That’s itchy... Sometimes you're lucky I don’t make you shave it... but it _does_ make you more dashing.”

 

“That’s not what you’d be saying if I was working my magic down low,” he smirked.

 

Steve buried his once-again-red face into Tony's collarbone and was muffled as he said “Shut up...”

 

“I love you,” Tony whispered, kissing Steve’s temple in a way that he knew made his super soldier feel secure.

 

“I love you, too,” Steve whispered bliss.

 

Tony chuckled, “So, what. Just because Peter got to see a sneak-peak means we aren’t going to get to the climax?”

 

Steve rolled out of Tony’s grasp to his own side of the bed, “You’re disgusting sometimes, you know that?”

  
“Well, yeah.” Tony answered as he rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Steve again. “But it was a joke. Kind of.” Tony felt his man’s head shake lightly before he let out a big sigh that drained most of his remaining energy, satisfied that the most important people in his life were ending their days a bit happier thanks to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter scrolled through the daily news on his tablet as he sat and ate breakfast. It was the normal things. A few hero stories, a few murders and robberies that he wasn’t around to prevent, some other crime.

Then he saw it. In bold on his tablet “Head of Oscorp Passes Away.” Peter skimmed a few lines before getting to a photo of a boy almost glaring back at the camera while getting into a black car. He was very familiar to him: Harry Osborn -- his best childhood friend who was sent off to boarding school long ago. In reality, it was less than a decade ago, but it felt like everything in his life had changed because of one person’s disappearance.  

Peter and Harry had always been best friends. Even after Peter’s parents were gone, the two young boys only got closer. Sure, things were different with Peter living with Tony, but it was still the same. They would still spend a vast amount of time with one another.

_Peter still didn’t know a few things about the deaths of his family members, but all he did know that his father sent him to his Aunt May and Uncle Ben to live with them when he was six or seven, but Uncle Ben had a different idea when he sent Peter to live with a genius-billionaire. It was scary, living with a man that Peter hardly knew. But his younger self knew it was going to be okay because Harry would still be there for him. Even after Aunt May and Uncle Ben were killed, everything was still going to be okay._

_Tony had once said that he was glad Ben had made the decision to move Peter under his care; otherwise he would’ve been killed by the same people that killed his aunt and uncle… or worse._ As memories and faces associated with them came pouring into Peter’s mind, he asked himself: why shouldn’t he help Harry through his dad’s death? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. Spiderman antics, not spend time with Gwen, take photos. He didn’t have much else to do but to go to the Osborn mansion.

Peter finished his breakfast quickly inhaling the rest. He ran back upstairs to put a clean shirt, pants, and and some shoes on.

Peter jogged back downstairs with his same old grey backpack, holding his Spidersuit. “Where are you going in such a rush?” Steve asked, surprised to see that is stepson wasn’t still asleep when it wasn’t even ten in the morning.

Peter stopped his rush on the last few stairs, hovering while watching Steve open the closet while looking over his shoulder at Peter. “Just out to visit a friend, Papa Steve,” he replied, sliding his phone and wallet into his front pockets.

“When will you be back?” He asked, pulling his leather jacket out and sliding it on. Usually Steve was already gone by the time Peter woke up, so it was strange to be leaving at the same time as him.

“A few hours or so. I’m not sure.” Peter was confused as to why Steve was being so nosey all of a sudden. Normally he wouldn't ask when Peter was going to be back or press any further than where he was going.

“Alright,” Steve grabbed for the door handle as he spoke.

Peter watched as his step-dad swung the door open and remembered what he had seen in the foyer the previous evening.

“See you later, Peter.” Steve skittered out the door and closed it behind him. Peter just barely got a glimpse of the blond super soldier’s glutes and shuddered.

“S-See you.” Peter quickly responded and wandered off acting like he had forgotten something, so he wouldn’t have to go through an incredibly awkward elevator ride, in spite of  Steve having already closed the door.

He let a few minutes pass by before finally leaving the penthouse apartment and going into the city he called home. Peter set off to Harry’s with excitement and a hint of anxiety. The two boys had both grown a lot over the years and had no contact whatsoever, but Peter could sense that he and Harry still had a special bond with one another. Peter thought of using his spider abilities to get to his old friend’s mansion quicker than New York public transport, but he decided against it because he wanted time to think things over; and there was also a possibility that Harry may still be sleeping.

Peter sat on the subway, closely watching people’s movements to spy if anyone was starting up trouble. It was the little things he could do like this to make things better for these citizens; he didn’t care if he saved the entire city, or the _world_ , like Tony and Steve have. Spiderman is a hero that stands up for the little guy, and Peter was always going to proud of that. He was content with the media being unsure of how to view Spiderman on the scale of good and bad, so long as he was able to make a difference in a few people’s lives.

Eventually, Peter got off at his stop, shaking as he walked to the Osborn mansion. He rang the doorbell and heard a crackly voice come over a small speaker sitting next to the left of the massive double wooden doors above the door bell.

“Who is there.” The voice asked through the speaker.  

“My name is Peter Parker. I am here to give my condolences to Harry.” Peter responded back, holding the red button down with his index finger.

“Very well,” the voice replied before the door opened. It was an older man. Peter couldn’t be sure if it was someone that Peter had met as a child or not. “Wait here.” The man said, walking up the large staircase and out of even Spiderman’s ear shot.

Peter stood near the door for a while. It felt a lot longer than it probably was; he started thinking that he should leave. It felt like Harry wasn’t coming. Every second he waited, he felt his desire to stay crawl out of his body. Peter was scared of this first encounter with Harry after so many years apart.

Just as he was about to reach for the handle of the door and bolt down the stairs, he suddenly heard two sets of  footsteps echo down the massive staircase that widened at the bottom. One of the men was his long lost friend. His pale skin stood out against his dark suit and dark bags underneath his eyes. His face lit up when he saw Peter with a slight dimple in his cheek as he hid a grin.

“Peter Parker. Came to bring me some mourning flowers just like the rest of them?” Harry smirked in a way that almost made his eyes sparkle. This was the golden smile that he had remembered.

“No, I came to help you like you helped me after my family died.” Peter replied, softly gazing towards Harry from across the entrance of the house.     

Any trace of humor vanished from Harry’s expression, “Like I did?” He echoed.

“That, and I figured you might want a break from all those suits,” referring to the responsibilities Harry had as CEO of Oscorp. Peter encouraged, “Come on, we’re eighteen and it’s the last summer before college. You look like you need some fun and we need some time to catch up.”

“Yeah, you’re right, “Harry replied, biting his lower lip and walking down to Peter. “Let’s just try not to get _arrested_.”

And Peter experienced the most natural movement as he and Harry locked one another in an embrace, just as they had when they were kids.

Harry smiled awkwardly as they released one another. “I missed you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Peter lowered his hands down to his sides while Harry put one on the door and the other down into his pocket. “So where should we set off to?”

“Anywhere but here,” Harry replied, opening the door and leading the way out.

Peter stepped into pace with Harry as the boy in the lead pulled out a pair of dark shades and covered his eyes. They strolled down to the sidewalk, not knowing really where they were going. They seemed to decide together to turn left on the cement. They strolled along until they came up to the edge of the harbor.

It was a sort of park, with trees and gravel paths that went down near the water. Along the path was vibrant grass and trees, including a few larger boulders that were placed there for decoration. The dark aqua-colored water sparkled under the sun's golden rays, a pleasant breeze tossed the water into a mild wake. Some hoary clouds dashed across the sky, threatening to cover the sun and take the warmth away.

“I haven’t been here in _ages_.” Peter picked up a rock and flicked into the harbor. It skipped more than six times until it was just skimming the top of the water.

"I almost forgot that this place existed," Harry replied, picking up a rock himself. "I guess that's what happens when you want to forget a place and everything about it, right?" Peter knew that he was referring to his father. "But whatever I did, I couldn't forget about you."

Peter just smiled, watching Harry skip the rock he had picked up. It left only three rings before submerging. “So, what school did you end up at?” Peter asked trying to make small talk.

"Just a rich kid boarding school in England. We didn't even have to try to pass." Harry rolled his eyes in disgust. He had always been a bright kid, and being placed in a school that didn't require him to try must've been frustrating.

“Sounds like buckets of fun.” Peter replied sarcastically.

Harry plucked another rock from the ground and turned it over in his hands before hurling it into the harbor and grunted at Peter’s sarcasm, “Yeah... _buckets_ …” He mumbled then stared at Peter and suddenly blurted out, seeming to be analyzing Peter, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Me? I, uh…” Peter thought back what felt like five minutes ago: breaking up with Gwen. Losing the person he thought was _the one_. But he felt like it was going to be okay now; Harry was back. Things would be okay. “No.” He decided. “Do you?”

“Naw. I don’t do _relationships_ ; just casual flings,” Harry smirked.

“Ah. Yeah, I never seemed to be especially popular. Y’know, being the _science geek_ all the time,” Peter laughed, infecting Harry as well.“Is it weird being top dog now?” Peter asked. He kind of wondered if Harry got a significant amount of disrespect from the senior partners that have been there before he was.

“Yeah, a little; I was kinda surprised my father even gave me the company with how he threw me away and shit.” Harry's words grew colder with each phrase as he grabbed a rock and whipped into the harbor. The clouds above started to compact closer together turning as dark as coal.  

Peter noticed the sudden burst of anger Harry had displayed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.” His gazed brushed over Harry’s dark shades before locking his eyes onto the water, watching the ripples as the rock splashed into the harbor. He then took a seat on a bigger rock near the water's edge and began to fiddle with his hands.

“Don’t treat me like a child, Peter, that’s all that has happened for the past twenty-four hours. I can handle questions.” Harry was obviously frustrated and he plopped himself down onto rock next to Peter’s, he seemed to have his attention focused away from Peter. “It’s okay, I’m okay.” Harry mumbled partly to Peter but mostly to himself. The truth of it all was that Harry really wasn’t okay and Peter subconsciously knew this and it was evident in the way he was acting. “It just feels like shit. We both got fucking _dumped_. Have you even figured out anything about your parents’ death?” Harry asked curiously.

“All I have is a briefcase that I haven’t even looked in... it just sits in my closet collecting dust...” Peter looked down at his feet and dug the toe of his running shoe into the dirt.

“I’d rather have that than a whole company to control,” Harry sighed.

Peter scooted over to Harry’s rock and placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry was distracted and didn’t really seem to notice Peter’s actions until after he scoffed in disgust at a couple walking by. Harry glared at them and then realized Peter's contact. “Don't.” He huffed, half-swatting Peter's hand away, half-backing away himself and looking up at the sky.

Peter glanced up to the darkening sky as well and gazed at the clouds. “Hey, wanna come back to my place and play games or something? It looks like rain's coming.”

_We haven’t really gotten a chance to_ talk. _We just have kind of brushed over a few topics and gotten reacquainted with one another, but we haven’t really unwound and had_ fun… _We should_...

“Uh, I guess,” Harry replied, seeming unsure of his answer.

“You don’t have to; I just thought it might be nice for you to take a break for a while longer.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sighed, agreeing with Peter.  

Harry pulled an iPhone out of his pocket and called for one of the drivers that did not quit and or got fired when his father died and commanded them to come pick him and Peter up from the park.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we kind of did things similarly to the movie, but we’re writing our own thing. So yeah.
> 
> Strrrufff.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Peter continue to bond.

It didn’t take long for Harry and Peter to get to Peter’s place. It wasn’t like anything Harry had expected, to be honest. The main memory he had of Peter’s _home_ was always a home with his parents. But the place he was currently living in with Tony _was amazing_. It was built when Stark Industries was experimenting with a self-sustaining buildings and was converted into a condo complex, with Tony living on the top two floors with Peter. It was really an extraordinary set-up, Harry had to admit. He was just expecting a “normal” family house like the Parkers had.

**  
**

Despite the height of the building, it was only a few minutes of an elevator ride up to the top floor. From there, it was a few strides to the front door with few other doors to go into. The front door was a chic metallic black accented with a silver handle and lock mechanism, plus a silver door knocker that said “Stark” above it, _incase it was unclear who lived on the floor._

_**  
**_

As Harry followed Peter in through the door, there was three different ways they could go. To the left, there was a set of dark grey carpeted stairs with pale walls and an oak hand railing. Straight in front of them was a closet with a similar black and silver coloring as the front door, but between the storage space and the stairs was a hallway with warm cherry walls lined with picture frames. Off to the right was another hallway that was significantly shorter than the one in the front. The current floor seemed to be completely covered in walnut-colored hardwood. The walls were all vibrant and stuck out against the contrasting floor color. The luxury apartment seemed to be entirely different than the Osborn mansion; it gave off the essence of rich, yet it was aby inviting and cozy living area. The Osborn mansion tended to be more detached and unwelcoming.

**  
**

After Peter took off his shoes, he tried leading Harry down the hallway with the hanging frames, but Harry wanted to look at the things on the walls instead of following his best friend. Harry let his eyes scan over a few of them: some blueprints of the complex in architectural design, a few _stunning_ landscape pictures, that Peter probably took; nothing that was out of the ordinary.

**  
**

But one photo caught Harry’s eye in a way none of the others did: a portrait with smiling faces. It wasn’t just the subjects, but the genuinity of the faces that stared back at him, absolutely _frozen_ in time. It clearly was Peter’s graduation (Peter was in his royal blue cap and gown) with two other men on either side of him. Harry recognized the one on the right as Tony Stark, wearing an iconic red shirt with a black tie, but the third man was the one Harry didn’t recognize. He was wearing a formal military uniform.“Who is the blond?” Harry asked with a touch of curiosity in his voice.

**  
**

“That’s just Steve.” Peter said, caught of guard by the question and continued to pad down the hallway. Peter was in a doorway, clearly waiting for Harry to stop lingering in the hallway.

**  
**

“Umm, okay?” Harry was slightly confused about the tone Peter answered in: as if he should have known exactly who Steve was. But he asked nothing else about the picture and followed Peter into the room. “What games do you have?” Harry asked, trying to focus on what the intent of going to Peter’s house was.

**  
**

“Well, what kind do you wanna play?” Peter wondered, switching on the light. The room was glorious. The TV was almost comparable to a cinema screen in the amount of wall it took up, the walls were lined with movie and video game cases so heavily that Harry couldn’t even see any _wall_. In the center was a thin table surrounded by a tan couch that could almost seat four people with two matching reclining chairs on either side. Peter knelt under the table and pulled out a drawer with boxes of all different colors and sizes. “Board games? How about Monopoly?” Peter pulled out the classic game with a big grin spreading across his entire face.

**  
**

“Sure,” Harry replied, laughing at the same old goofy kid he remembered.

**  
**

“Awesome,” Peter started setting the game up on the table. He paused and got up to start fiddling with the speakers, “I’m gonna turn on some music.”

**  
**

“Don’t put on the shitty _top hits_ , okay?” Harry chuckled.

**  
**

“Sure will.” The speakers started  playing _What’s My Age Again_ by Blink 182. “Do you want a drink or something?” Peter wandered back to the doorway, waiting for Harry’s response.

**  
**

“Uh, some wine?” Harry paused, “Er, I guess just some soda? Cherry Pepsi?”

**  
**

_I should try to stay legal in the States, I guess._

**  
**

“Sure…” Peter replied, obviously trying to ignore Harry’s initial response. Peter must’ve grown up to be a bit of a straight-edge.

**  
**

Harry could hear Peter walk down the hallway past the front door and turned to the corridor perpendicular and out of earshot.

**  
**

Harry realized that he was still standing behind the sofa and decided to look around the room a little bit more. There were a ton of movies that he recognized: major blockbusters, few romances, few pornos. Wait, what? Harry did a doubletake a confirmed that there was indeed _The Grand Budapest Hotel_ right next to _The Grand Bootyfest Hotel_. He brought his right hand up to his mouth and muffled his laughter, _wondering_ exactly what the _Bootyfes_ t could possibly be about given the original’s plot.

**  
**

Harry’s attention was pulled away by the front door opening followed by loud footsteps. He couldn’t really see the figure, but he could tell that it was a tallish muscular man, and that he acknowledged Harry with a nod. The man walked out of Harry’s view to the front closet and was probably putting away a jacket or something.

**  
**

“Hey,” Peter’s voice carried over to Harry, but he was still over by the front door.

**  
**

“Uh, hey. You have a visitor?” The man’s voice seemed to be kind of nervous yet comfortable.

**  
**

“Yeah, uhm. We’re playing Monopoly.” Peter replied, the fact that he wanted to get away from the man was evident in his tone, continuing toward the home theatre room.

**  
**

Harry continued looking around the walls at the collection of cases. He glanced down the hallway and saw Peter coming down the hall, carrying two glasses. He acknowledged Peter with a smile as the unrecognized voice called down the corridor at Peter, “Okay."

**  
**

Peter reached Harry and handed him one of the glasses and took a seat on the big couch. Harry decided to join him around the table and sat in the closest chair, which it just so happened that the occupant could see the front door with a glance to the left.

**  
**

“So, which piece do you want to be?” Peter asked, taking a sip of his soda.

**  
**

“I’ll be the top hat,” Harry declared as he swiped up the small silver-coated piece and placed it on GO.

**  
**

“I guess I’ll be the dog.” Peter plucked the small shiny dog off the table and placed it on to the game board next to Harry’s.

**  
**

Harry dealt out the dough to himself and Peter. “Do you want to be banker or take care of property deeds?” Harry said as he handed Peter his stack of  multi-colored cash.

**  
**

“I think you already declared yourself the banker,” Peter smiled. “I guess I’ll care for the deeds.”

**  
**

“Good, dealing deeds is boring.” Harry said childishly while smiling. “I’m going first.” Harry snatched up the dice.

**  
**

“Woah, woah, woah. That’s not how this game works here. You have to roll the dice first. You can’t just decide you’re going _first_ ,” Peter replied pretending to be agitated.

**  
**

“Whatever,” Harry rolled the dice, rolling snake eyes. “Fuck you!” He yelled, pretending to direct it at Peter.

**  
**

Peter looked at Harry and then grabbed the dice and rolled them himself, rolling a seven. “Looks like I’m going first,” Peter retorted smugly.

**  
**

Harry just rolled his eyes as Peter rolled and advanced seven spaces, landing on _Chance_. Peter smiled and drew his card. His face drooped slightly as he read the card aloud, “‘Go directly to jail. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.’” Peter looked back at Harry with his deer eyes.

**  
**

“Haha! Fuck you, Peter.” Harry really enjoyed the fact his friend got put _into jail on the first roll_. Harry picked up the dice that just put Peter in jail and rolled two fives and advanced to visiting jail.

**  
**

Harry could tell from Peter’s eyes that he was thinking, _don’t say anything, Harry._

_**  
**_

“I’m visiting you in jail, loser,” Harry laughed with a hidden grin on his face.

**  
**

Peter stuck his tongue out at Harry. “Shut the fuck up,” Peter said while playfully pushing Harry’s shoulder.

**  
**

“Peter, language,” a voice called from someplace past the hallway. It sounded like the voice Harry had heard earlier.

**  
**

“Sure,” Peter called back, then turning to Harry to laugh quietly, _“_ that _was_ language.”

**  
**

Harry’s attention wasn’t on Peter anymore; he was was still leaning back, looking down the cherry hallway. A man with dark hair had appeared from a someplace he hadn’t seen and was standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for the other man. The larger man appeared from the stairs and greeted the raven haired man with an uttering of,  “Hey, sweetie,” and kissed him on the right cheek gently.

**  
**

Harry’s face turned to a mixture of disgust and of horror as he quickly jolted up. “I, umm... have to go to a meeting or something, he quickly speed walked down the hallway toward the door, grabbing his shoes and slipping past the two men and out the door before either had a chance to say anything to him. He practically sprinted into the elevator and had it start its descent before Peter could catch up. He slid down the metallic elevator wall and sat on the grey-speckled tile, putting his head between his knees and tangling his fingers into his blondish brown locks.  

**  
**

_What the fuck...Who fucking knew Peter was living with_ faggots… _Maybe he’s a faggot too._ Harry pondered. Well, if he is a faggot maybe he would like me-- Wait, what? No, I can’t like Peter. _My dad would’ve-- I’d become exactly what he sent me away not to become. I’m already Oscorp’s disappointment. I don’t need to continue being my father’s as well._ Harry untangled one of his hands to punch the solid tiles, pulling him back to reality more than anything else. _Fuck_! The numbers on the elevator were quickly dropping to the ground floor so he tugged his shoes on and stood up, dusting off his jacket and pants and trying to appear neutral.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got the idea for the name of the porno because work. When The Grand Budapest Hotel was out, us and our co-workers called it The Grand Bootyfest c:


	4. Chapter 4

Harry woke gradually, his hair sticking up in various directions. He rubbed his eyes groggily with the back of his hands and blinked a few times, clearing his vision.

 

 _Where am I?_ He looked around the room noticing the walls. One was brick while the others were drywall and painted a plain white. The floors were a laminate that gave the appearance of wood. There wasn't much in the bedroom; the only furniture was a desk and the bed, in addition to the closet. There was a few things scattered around on the desk and on the flooring, but Harry couldn't really tell what they were. It was probably clothing on the floor, given how they were strewn about. There wasn't a nightstand or a dresser of any kind.

 

He laid in a bed covered in a shabby dark blue comforter, covering his lower waist. A tall man lay next to him. _"Fuck,"_ Harry hissed aloud to himself. Harry was butt-naked laying next to this man and he had a dull ache in his head and ass. _I'm such a fucking failure._ I can't even fucking remember what I did last night. Harry growled and quietly got out of the bed, hoping his one night stand wouldn't wake up or even acknowledge him.

 

As he rose to his feet, the aching increased to a sharp throbbing and he felt like he was going to hurl as he searched for his clothing, which was indeed scattered across the small bedroom along with a couple of beer bottles that must have been consumed the previous evening.

 

Harry found his dress pants with his boxer briefs still inside, and slid them on. _Well we didn't waste anytime, now did we?_ Harry thought to himself with disgust. He searched the floor for his black t-shirt and then his coal-colored jacket. He dusted it off before snapping the gold buttons together. He stumbled toward the entrance, down the cramped hallway groaning with every movement. _Fuck, my ass hurts._ Harry thought as he slid his shoes on.

 

Harry hurried toward what he assumed was the apartment's exit door and paused after realizing that he had forgotten his wallet in the bedroom. He stealthily rushed back to the bedroom and got onto his hands and knees and began to search. When he thought he saw his wallet, he glanced back up to the bed and saw the man was staring at him. _"Oh fuck,"_ Harry hissed as his icy blue eyes met the other's.

 

The man looked shocked to see Harry rushing away, his dark curly hair tousled around in a manner that framed his face quite handsomely. Harry couldn't help but to stare back at his captivating gaze, the man's brilliant blue eyes similar to his own. His legs were dangling to the side of the bed, as though he were ready to get up. His chest was bare and Harry was quite pleased with the view of the ripped abs and toned arms. _No, fucking stop; that's disgusting! Damn it._ Harry fought against himself to try not to stare.

 

"Leaving already?" The man asked with a slight chuckle but with a touch of hurt in his voice.

 

Harry didn't want to reply. He didn't even want to acknowledge that he was in this situation. So he didn't; he snatched his wallet off the ground in front of him as got off his knees and he sprinted toward the bedroom door.

 

"Honey, where are you going?" The man seemed confused as he followed Harry down the hallway.

 

"Don't fucking honey me, you faggy old man." Harry seethed. He could feel the saggy bags under his eyes due to lack of sleep.

 

"Woah, now. Harry, I'm only two years older than you..." He replied, wearing nothing but a pair of loose black boxers.

 

"H-how do you know my fucking name." Harry backed away, starting to get scared because he couldn't remember anything from the previous evening, besides the physical reminder of having intercourse. They were in an open space between the hallway and the door and Harry basically had frozen.

 

"You _told_ me at the bar last night," The tall curly-haired man reminded Harry, looking slightly more hurt than before.

 

"Right... " Harry mumbled and shuffled towards the door, backing away from the stranger.

 

"Oh, you must've drank too much!" He came to a sudden realization and any trace of hurt disappeared. "I totally thought you had, but you assured me you were fine. You blacked out."

 

"I did?” Harry sounded confused and a small spark of anger lit up in his eye. “What the fuck..." Harry took a moment to process. "Did you fucking rape me?!” Harry screamed at the stranger and backing away quicker. Drugged me

 

“You said you were fine.” The man was disgruntled and guilt came across his face.

 

“What the _actual_ fuck. You actually fucking did. You are fucking disgusting!” Harry started to hyperventilate and backed away slowly with his volume and anger rising with each sentence.

 

“Harry, babe. I didn’t do anything.” The strange man reached for the other's wrists.

 

“I am not your babe, you fucking _faggot_.” Harry growled and put his hand on the door knob, flinging it open and sprinted out the door into the bustling metropolis of New York City. He hailed a cab.

****  


“Where to?” The fat cab driver with a sweat-and-grease-stained t-shirt asked, running a hand through his thick black greasy hair.

 

“Oscorp,” Harry said, agitated as reached for his scarf to cover his mouth and nose from the stench. He realized he left it in the apartment. _Great, that rapist is probably gonna sniff it all day_ or _use it as his jerk-off towel..._ Harry gaged partly from his thoughts and from the stench of the cab. Thankfully, it did not take much time for him to arrive at Oscorp. Harry gave the taxi driver money for the ride and rushed out of the cab.

 

He walked behind the massive skyscraper that was Oscorp, dodging the main entrance and strolling towards the side. He swiped his ID card in the reader next to the solid metal door that almost blended into the buildings side and placed his hand on the print reader, unlocking the door. Very few employees had access granted to this door, and he knew he wouldn’t be bothered while using this entrance.

 

Harry quickly got into the elevator that led up to his main office, the doors closing as he was greeted by the AI that controls the elevator, "Good morning, Mr. Osborn. What floor?"

 

He placed his pale hands onto his temples and rubbed small circles, answering the AI, "My office."  The elevator jolted upward towards its destination.

 

Harry glimpsed at his reflection as he looked through the glass of the pristine elevator. _I can’t go to meetings like this. I need to get cleaned up..._ Fuck.

 

His clothes were mussed, his hair not combed down like usual. Harry had dark bags under his eyes, darker than usual and accompanied by bloodshot eyes due to lack of sleep and using an unknown number of drugs the previous evening. The elevator climbed to the top floor and the AI announced, “Have a good day, Mr. Osborn."

 

Harry just grunted, annoyed with himself as he stepped out of the shaft into the glass walled office, stepping through the conference room. He tugged out his phone from his dress pants pocket and dialed Felicia.

 

"Hello?" She answered on the fifth ring, sounding a bit groggy.

 

"I need you to pick a few things up for me this morning..." Harry told her, trying to hide his shame.

 

“What do you need?” She asked with a touch of curiosity in her voice, sounding a bit more awake.

 

"Clothes, a coffee, uhh..." Harry paused for a moment to think. “Some sort of pain killers and a couple energy drinks...” Harry paused again. “I think that's-- oh yeah, deodorant would be a good idea, probably. May as well get a toothbrush and toothpaste, while you’re at it.”

 

"Sounds like you had a long night... Your first meeting is scheduled to start at nine, so I'll have everything there by eight?"

 

"The sooner, the better," Harry sighed.  “Okay, thanks, Felicia.”

 

“Uh, hold on…” She started.

 

“What?” Harry half-snapped, unintentionally.

 

“What sizes do you need, and do you want boxers or briefs?”

 

"Uh, _fuck_." Harry whispered, forgetting he would need to tell her sizes and preferences and give her more personal information about himself. "Boxer briefs, my waist is 34", length 36" or 37",  shirt either a medium or 16 with 34", Harry listed quickly. "Oh, find me a scarf, too."

 

"Sure,"

 

Harry hung up, aware of what a bother it probably will be for Felicia to have to find him some decent clothes, but he was really glad to have her. It was six fifteen in the morning.

 

"Fucking hell..." Harry muttered, throwing himself into his desk chair. His head was still throbbing hard and his body still sore from last night's events. A hand ran through his hair as he tried to calm himself a bit. He realized he needed to get cleaned up and he headed toward his chambers.

 

Getting up was difficult as he stumbled off towards a door in the corner, feeling slightly light-headed. Once he opened the door, directly to his right was the kitchenette. The rest of the room looked a lot like a living room, with a high ceiling, expensive leather sofas, and bookshelves. There was also a huge flatscreen in addition to a marble counter that had stools in front of it. The kitchenette had a smooth black microwave and midnight granite counter tops. A small stainless steel sink was installed into the counters. A mini-fridge that matched the microwave sat where a lower white cabinet should’ve been. The walls were painted bluegrey and two white cabinets sat on either side above the sink. A short hallway led to a private bathroom, which included a shower.

 

Harry quickly went inside and closed the door behind him and started the water. He stripped himself of his clothes while the water warmed up and he stepped in, letting the stream relax his muscles a bit. He tilted his neck back, letting the water run through his hair and he closed his eyes. This feels nice. Harry grabbed for a bright green shower puff and lathered it with a vanilla-scented body wash. He started by scrubbing his hands and working his way to his chest, and that's when he froze. He had a trail of red dots down his torso. Hickies. _Fucking perfect..._ Just how far up do they go? He worried, hoping none of them were on his jaw or someplace that a scarf wouldn't be able to hide.

 

Harry quickly finished scrubbing his body before reaching for the bottle of shampoo and squeezing a decent amount into his hand and massaging it into his scalp and hair, trying to keep his mind occupied on the meetings he had today. His mind began to drift as he tilted his head back, letting the warm spray run through his hair to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. Harry shut his eyes gently as the water ran down his back. He shifted his neck, allowing the water to run down his face. He got distracted, trying to remember why he let himself get in this situation.

 

 _Why the hell did I wake up next to that guy… What made me think that it was a good idea to go out and get shitfaced?_ Peter. _That’s right… I spent the better part of yesterday catching up with Peter. It was as if we just started where we left off... like nothing had really changed between us. Even though so much has happened in our time apart._ Harry smiled a bit, thinking about how much his childhood friend had grown up, how attractive his face was now. _Even though he still has that huge nose, it’s kinda adorable,_ in a way. Harry let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his soaked locks. _He’s filled out quite well_ … _He used to be a bit of an awkward-looking kid, but his muscles have grown in in a filing way… He looks like a lean swimmer with a well-toned body. He even has a nice sense of fashion for a straight guy._ _Those jeans fit him quite well…_ Harry began to feel groin heat-up.

 

Harry reached his arm out and turned the water to the coldest it would go and stood in it for another fifteen minutes, making himself stop. Harry shut down the water when he could no longer withstand the cold, and his body had _calmed down,_ and he was actually shivering uncontrollably from the shower and goosebumps were raised on every inch of his body..

 

 _“Come on, Harry. Get your fucking shit together,”_ He hissed at himself. He ripped an all-white towel off the rack next to the shower and ran it over his lanky arms, through his hair and down his thin legs. He then wrapped the fluffy pale towel around his waist. He was still shivering a bit, but most of the goose bumps that had risen had decompressed a significant amount since the removal of the water.

 

Harry checked himself in the mirror, noticing that he was still looking _awful,_ but the grime from the night before was gone and he was almost feeling better, but then he noticed the splashes of dark violet and light pink speckled across his chest and that trickled down his neck. _Fucking hell. T_ _hat fucking asshole_ marked _me_. He reached for his hairdryer that hung on the wall, trying to get himself distracted from the marks with physical motion and started to comb through his hair, starting to dry it. After fiddling around with his hair for fifteen minutes or so, he was satisfied with the way it looked and decided all he needed was clothes and the other stuff Felicia was bringing in.

 

He shuffled into the main room, making sure the towel was firm around his waist. He had meant to sit down and relax, maybe take a very-needed nap, but he just ended up pacing around the room, thinking. It was only just past seven, and he had an hour until Felicia would probably be getting there.

 

Come on, focus. _I need to control myself. These tendencies, freaking out then waking up and not knowing where I am… I can’t keep letting that happen. I need to focus on running Oscorp. I can’t let this company go down the toilet. It’s powerful and the world needs it. I can’t fucking run it if I can’t even remember what the fuck I did last night. I can’t fucking look like this! I look like a fucking crackwhore! And my fucking head! I can’t focus with this pounding!_

 

Harry flung open the fridge and pulled out a bottle of whisky. He took a glass out of the cabinet and uncapped the bottle, starting to pour a glass. “What the fuck am I doing?!” He screamed and launched the glass against the wall in front of him, it shattering into tiny shards of glass. He then picked up the whisky bottle right as Felicia bursted into the room.  

 

“Mr.Osborn, is everything...” She trailed off when she saw the whisky bottle in Harry’s hand, the marks up and down his torso and back, his bloodshot eyes, everything about the way he looked right now. Her eyes widened before she composed herself.  “I, umm... I brought the things you requested, sir.” Felicia said calmly. Harry lowered the bottle and placed it on the counter, feeling heat radiate from his eyes.

 

“Good.” Harry huffed and reached his hand out for bags and Felicia passed a couple of the clothing bags over, after setting down the coffee, along with another bag from Walgreens. He could feel Felicia staring at the hickeys that covered his body and wanted to get away from her. “I’ll be back. Clean this shit up or call someone to clean this shit up. ” Harry padded heavily off to the bathroom and closed the door behind him

 

Harry found a dark red v-neck shirt rolled his eyes and pulled it over his shoulders and felt better with something covering his chest. He pulled the black boxer briefs that Felicia got him and stepped into them, then reaching into the next bag for black pants. He had difficulty getting into them because they hugged his legs. There was also a black blazer that Harry slung on the back of the door on a hook. In the bottom of one of the bags was a black scarf with red accents that he really did like. He checked himself in the mirror, making sure that there were no visible marks on his neck.

 

In another set of bags, Harry pulled out the deodorant and swiped some on. It was an Old Spice, and it was a bit muskier than Harry would prefer, but it would definitely do. He grabbed the toothpaste and toothbrush and removed them from their packages and got his teeth and mouth feeling significantly cleaner. He grabbed the bottle of maximum strength pain reliever and popped four pills into his mouth before swallowing them with some water before returning to the main room to get his coffee, the jacket in his hand and slung over his shoulder.

 

“ _Please._ Explain to me why the fuck you bought me skinny jeans, Felicia?” Harry could feel the annoyance on his face and in his voice as he spoke.

 

“Why the fuck did you break that glass?” She countered, and Harry knew that she wasn’t going to let him get away with this bullshit.

 

“Does it _matter?”_

 

“Yes, it does. What happened?” Felicia asked him, sounding genuinely concerned.

 

“None of your fucking business. It’s not important.”  He snapped.

 

“Clearly, it is. Did you get drugged and wake up in a ditch?” She asked with a somewhat sarcastic tone.

 

“May as fucking well have,” he growled as he slapped the bottle of whiskey, sending it to the floor, fracturing into tiny chunks, the amber liquid slipping across the floor. “Just clean this shit up.” He hissed and grabbed his coffee as he stormed out and down the side stairwell, shrugging into his jacket, and dialing Peter’s number after whipping out his iPhone.

 

He answered on the second ring. “Harry, what's up man?” Peter said, exhaustion evident in his voice.

 

“I just needed someone to talk to...” Harry spoke softly trying to calm down.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the forever delay. Life happened. And one of the authors was being a booty.
> 
> Side note: Captain Gaze. Captain Gays. LOL
> 
> Happy Birthday Captain America :D


	5. Chapter 5

Peter woke up on the living room couch downstairs, still in his suit with a blanket draped over him, and his phone sandwiched between his face and the arm of the cream couch. _What the,_ he thought, pulling his phone out from under his face. He checked the time, and it was already past noon.

 

He had a late night last night. He hadn’t intended to stay out after _seven in the morning_ , but it just kind of happened because of the trouble Max had caused. And when he did climb in through the living room window, he immediately got a call from Harry, who needed to _talk_. It was odd because he didn’t really seem to _want_ to talk, but he still needed it and he talked to Peter for nearly an hour. Peter had plopped down on the sofa in the living room, thinking that it wouldn’t be long until Harry would want to hang up and he would go upstairs and go to bed, but _apparently_ , Peter fell asleep down there instead.

 

Peter wasn’t sure where the blanket came from so he took it with him upstairs to his room. As he headed towards the stairs, Tony came around from the other side. Tony smirked all-knowing, “Sup, Spidey-Son.” He said with a chuckle.

 

“Nothing really, dad.” Peter said looking down at his suit.

 

“Ugh, that thing smells like the Cap suit.”  Tony commented as Peter passed him and started up the stairs.

 

“I know…” Peter grumbled, wanting to get himself cleaned up and _sleep_. He hovered on the first stair, looking at Tony.

 

“I should modify a washing machine to clean those efficiently. Come here,” Tony smiled with a touch of fondness with his arms rising up from his sides.

 

“You just told me I smell and you want a hug? But okay.” Peter questioned but accepted the offer, regardless. He stepped down the first stair and opened his arms and let Tony embrace him, leaning into Tony’s shoulder.

 

“I’m proud of you, Peter,” Tony smiled as he hugged his son. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

 

“Dad?” Peter leaned back a bit, looking at Tony.

 

Tony just smiled and changed the subject, “Steve wanted to have a family game night tonight.“

 

“Okay,” Peter laughed slightly, knowing that Tony was hiding something, and added, “Good night, dad,” before climbing the rest of the stairs.

 

“It’s not even night,” J.A.R.V.I.S corrected.

 

“ _Shut up,_ ” Peter whined, going through his bedroom door. He grabbed a change of clothes and went to take a shower really quick before returning to his bedroom and laying down and drifting into a comfortable sleep.

 

~~~

 

He didn’t wake up until five, with his stomach growling like _crazy_. Hopefully Steve and Tony were planning on having dinner soon enough, and Peter crawled out of bed and started looking for his dads and food. He started out his door and down the stairs, through the hallway, and finally found Steve and Tony together in the kitchen. Steve was in front of the stove, stirring a pot filled with something delicious smelling, and Tony had his arms wrapped around him from behind.

 

“Tony, how does this taste?” Steve asked after dipping a spoon into the pot and offering some to Tony and blowing on it a bit.

 

Tony put his lips around the spoon and slurped the soup off it. “Deli _cious_ , like you.” Tony purred into the super soldier's ear and kissed the shell of his ear, causing the taller man to blush. .

 

“Hey!” Peter announced. Steve spun around to face Peter with Tony still attached to his back.

 

“Peter,” Steve made eye-contact and partly swat Tony away from him. “How’d you sleep?”

 

“Beautifully.” Peter said cheekily. “Papa Steve, you guys are a couple, you don’t need to be paranoid about me seeing you touch… just no touching like the night I was on the ceiling would be appreciated.” Peter lectured.

 

“I--” Steve started.

 

“Look who’s talking, _Mister-I-made-out-with-my-girlfriend-on-stage_ ,” Tony retorted,

 

“I think that’s too soon, sir.” J.A.R.V.I.S stated.

 

Peter just stared, shocked that Tony said that to him.

 

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve whispered harshly, all trace of humor gone from his face.

 

“Yes, darling,” Tony whispered back.

 

“What made you think that was a good idea?” Steve asked, still voice low and a whisper.

 

“It was appropriately funny?” Tony replied.

 

“No, it--” Steve said.

 

“I can _hear_ you. I’m _right here._ ” Peter stated, not even mentioning that he has super-human hearing. It wasn’t that he was _mad_ , per se. But it was an insensitive comment. And he stared at Tony and Steve, whom looked baffled at his words.

 

“Who wants grilled cheese with their soup?” Steve changed the subject as he raised his hand, and pressed the Arc Reactor attached to Tony’s chest with his palm and pushed him away.

 

“Heeeeyy,” Tony whined, putting a hand to his chest. “What was that for? That’s sensitive technology, Steven.” Tony huffed.

 

Steve gazed at Tony, looking like he wanted to say something sassy and he had decided against it.

 

“Sure,” Peter answered. “I’m starving.” He smiled

 

“Great. Go wash up before dinner, okay, Peter?” Steve asked, raising his eyebrows slightly in a kind and warm manner.

 

Peter noded, taking the hint that Steve wanted to talk to Tony in private.

 

***

 

Once Peter left the room, Steve turned to his husband. “What were you thinking saying that, Anthony?” Steve whispered harshly to his husband.

 

Tony stared back at him, bewildered about why Steve was bringing this up again. “What’s the big deal? They broke up, he’s moving on.”

 

“I can’t believe how heartless you can be sometimes…” Steve muttered.

 

“I’m being heartless? Steve, he’s been in relationships _before_. He’s broken up with Gwen _before_.” Tony rolled his eyes, getting mildly irritated.

 

“It has only been a few days!”

 

“Are we really fighting about this?” Tony asked, crossing his arms under the glow that was visible through his shirt.

 

“I guess we are,” Steve turned back to the pot of soup, stirring it.

 

Tony sighed and kissed the back of Steve’s neck gently. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t see why this is such a big deal, especially for you.”

 

“It just _is_. The books I’ve read said teenagers need support when they get out of a long relationship.” Steve turned off the flame of the stove, “And it _isn’t_ supportive to make fun of something that Peter might cherish from the relationship.”

 

“I know before you became a Capsicle and all, you weren’t very popular with the ladies and you don’t have much experience, but I’m _90% sure_ that kiss was just _hormones_.” Tony said, staying where he was as Steve reached into the lower cabinet to the left of the stove to pull out their portable griddle and set it on the counter next the stove to make the grilled cheese in.

 

“Tony, it doesn’t matter!” Steve raised his voice slightly as he strode across the room to the fridge, pulling out bread, cheese, and butter. “You saw how he looked after you said it,” Steve looked at Tony intensely as he returned to the stove.

 

“To be honest, he seemed more upset that we were whispering like he wasn’t there than he was about what I _actually_ said.”

 

Steve stopped moving and turned toward Tony. “Oh.. I-I’m sorry, Tony.” He whispered becoming more upset. “I need to be excused for a few moments.”  Steve didn’t wait for Tony to reply as he was heading into the bathroom. He quickly passed the front door and made a right into the the hallway followed by another quick right into the bathroom.

 

Steve turned on the faucet and pooled cool water in his hands before splashing it into his face.

 

 _Why do I get so worked up over little things like this? Why am I so worried i’m going to be a bad papa to Peter?_ Steve looked at himself in the mirror and reached for the light teal towel and brushed it over his dripping face.

 

Steve took a seat on the toilet and focused on breathing, pushing away any thoughts.

 

***

 

“Peter, could you come back in here?” Tony called from within the kitchen.

 

“Yeah, sure.” Peter actually had gone up to his room to check a few things on his phone and was reading an article about his fight with Max. He was trying really hard _not_ to listen to Steve and Tony with his enhanced hearing, but some words did drift up to his ears.

 

He hurried back downstairs and into the kitchen to find Tony at a griddle with a plate next to him with a few sandwiches already made.

 

“Hey,” Tony said to him with a soft voice.

 

“Everything okay?” Peter asked, slightly worried about Steve not being there.

 

“Uh, yeah; he should be fine.” Tony replied as he flipped one of the gooey, cheese-filled sandwiches to cook the other side.

 

“Do you know why Steve gets this way?” Peter inquired with curiosity audible in his voice.

 

Tony pressed his lips into a fine line before answering, “Yeah…”

 

Peter looked to his dad, “Can I ask why?”

 

“You’re a smart kid, Peter. You can figure it out.”

 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows; he wasn't expecting _that_ as an answer. He had expected Tony to explain something that Peter wasn't aware of -- like, maybe Steve has had bad experiences with dating and is hypersensitive about it.

 

“Do you know what he looked like before the serum?” Tony continued after seeing the confusion in Peter’s eyes.

 

“Uh, vaguely.” He responded.  

 

“Peter. He was scrawny, asthmatic, and he was extremely self-conscious. He had other focuses.”

 

 _What is Tony getting at? Dating? So Steve didn’t date a lot?_ Tony watched Peter, thinking and he was probably watching Peter understand what he was getting at. _So… He is worried about how I handle things like that. Maybe he’s even a little curious about it, but knowing him, he probably is too afraid to actually ask me._

 

“You got it?” Tony asked, expectantly, as he took the sandwich off of the griddle and set it on the top of the stack he had, it now having four.

 

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks for explaining it.”

 

“Hey, I just stated a few additional facts,” Tony replied smugly. He paused before saying, “But really, Peter. I’m sorry if that wasn’t appropriate.”

 

Peter heard Steve’s barefeet tap against the wood as he walked towards the kitchen.“It’s okay. To be honest, I’ve hardly noticed her being gone…” Peter trailed off as Steve walked into the kitchen. Peter stepped towards Steve and wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle. “Thanks,”

Peter whispered as he hugged one of his super dads.

 

“For what?” Steve whispered back before returning the embrace but Peter could tell he was glancing at Tony.

 

Peter pulled away and just smiled fondly at Steve.

 

“Hey. One more grilled cheese left to make. Steve, want to come finish it off?”`

 

“Sure,” Steve stepped over to where Tony was and got a kiss planted on his cheek before Tony stepped over to another cabinet to get out three bowls for the soup and carried them over to the island.

 

Peter took the queue to grab a few glasses and ask what his dads wanted to drink, both wanting water. Peter decided on water as well because he hadn’t drank anything since dinner yesterday -- nearly a day ago. He took a seat at the island on his side and started sipping at his water after setting the other two glasses on the other side.

 

Within a few minutes, Tony set the plate stacked with six grilled cheese sandwiches on it, followed by Steve bringing over the hot bowls and placing them at each seat, and taking a seat on the other side, to the left of Peter. Tony went over to a drawer to grab spoons before taking his seat.

 

“Hey, could I invite Harry to game night?” Peter asked as he pulled out his phone, expectantly.

 

Steve looked at Tony and they exchanged a glance before Tony said, “Sure.”

 

“But he has to watch his mouth,” Steve added, grabbing for one of the sandwiches.

 

“Okay,” Peter said, grumbling a bit.

 

 _Hey, Harry. What’s up with you tonight?_ Peter typed quickly, hitting send. He started another message, _We’re having a game night tonight, and I wanted to know if you wanted to come… Continue from the other day? :)_

 

 _Sorry, Pete. I can’t tonight. I have meetings still._ Harry replied within a few minutes and sent another text, _Felicia bought me skinny jeans, Pete. Like, what the fuck?_

 

Peter laughed audibly, getting a disapproving look from Steve and he put his phone back in his pocket before typing back, _Okay, man. No problem. Maybe next time._

 

They rest of dinner was comfortable, Peter eating half of the cheese and bread, not to Tony’s surprise. Once they were done, Peter offered to do dishes while the two went to get the mediaroom to set up.

 

***

 

It was only a quarter to midnight, and Steve was beginning to fall asleep. Tony agreed with him that it was time for bed and started down the hallway with him. The Monopoly board was already cleaned up and put away, and the three had just spent the better part of a half hour talking about various subjects. After a few steps, Tony leaned over the railing and looked at Peter, who was still in the mediaroom, checking for any texts from Harry.

 

“Don’t stay up too late, kay,” Tony smiled at him.

 

“Sure, dad,” Peter laughed and shook his head fondly.

 

The game went a lot better than Peter thought it would -- Peter was really worried about how it was going to go, given how Steve was acting earlier, but everything seemed to have been sorted out in the conversation he and Tony had when Peter was out of the room. There was less whining from Tony about his occasional mini-losses than usual.

 

Once he heard Tony and Steve’s door close, Peter ran upstairs and grabbed his fried web shooter from the inside of his closet -- he knew he doesn't need to try to hide this from Steve and Tony anymore, but it was a force of habit.  He quickly made his way down to the lab and asked J.A.R.V.I.S  to pull up videos and articles about batteries and holding charges and to play his usual _thinking_ playlist.

 

He was thinking that if he was able to give his web shooter the ability to absorb Max’s electricity, he would be able to fight him off safely. In order to do so, he was going to need batteries that could hold this charge. And once a battery takes on more than it can hold, it explodes. And the amount of capacity that Peter was going to need would be approximately equal to that of a household electric source.

 

Before Peter got into that, he wanted to test his theory out on some smaller batteries. He grabbed a few AAs and worked his way up to a car battery, verifying his mathematical calculations to be correct. After each of the small-scale experiments, he cleaned up the battery acid from multiple explosions. And if Peter were to continue at this rate, he would need something powerful enough to hold the charge of an entire building -- or possibly a city.

 

Lucky for me, Tony Stark is my dad. Peter grinned, walking over to where Tony kept some of his Arc Reactor technology. He quickly got one of the older reactors free and took it over to where Peter was doing his tests and modified it so it would act more like a battery, and he connected it to the wires that would connect to a power source that would be almost equal to a small portion of NYC.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing, Peter?” Tony asked sternly.

 

“Wha--?” Peter yelped, slipping his hands off of the counter and dropping the reactor on the cold metal surface. “I, uh-- _science_!” He fumbled.

 

“Right… And what exactly are you doing with _that_?” Tony gestured at the reactor and how it was modified.

 

“Well… I just sort of… am interested in _batteries_ ,” Peter smiled, putting on his best innocent face.

 

“Also, do you not see we have proper protective equipment? Tony gestured to the thick rubber gloves, plastic goggles, and even a few hazmat suits that were hanging on a wall in the front.

 

“I was fine…” Peter whispered, still with a fire blanket draped over his shoulders, seeing that Tony was on one of his overly protective fatherly rants.

 

“ _Interested in batteries?_ It wouldn’t have anything to do with _this_ , would it?” Tony said and flipped his tablet around to reveal the article he had been reading. There were pictures of Spiderman facing down a blue, glowing guy. Max. They were calling him _The Electric Menace_. “Peter, you know you can just ask me if you need help.”

 

“Dad, I know,” Peter half-snapped. He didn’t mean to. He was looking at the article and how the media was describing Max as a terrible, mean-hearted bad guy, when that wasn’t one bit true. Max was scared.

 

“Could you imagine if the media found out I was your son, though, dad? They would have a field day. I mean they know you have a son… but not that _Spiderman_ is your son and then my identity could be blown and I could get dragged into bigger danger outside of New York.

 

Tony half-frowned. “As long as you aren’t wearing a suit that says _Stark Industries_ on it, I think you’ll be fine.”

 

“Exactly, dad.”

 

“But, Peter. What were you thinking when you grabbed _that_ ,” Tony motioned to the Arc Reactor. “That’s _my_ tech. That would be a dead giveaway.”

 

“But… Right…” Peter looked towards Tony.

 

“I’m always right,” He moved onto ask, “What were you working on specifically?”

 

“Well, Max kind of fried one of my web shooters with his electricity, so I need a way to get ahold of him without letting my flesh getting sautéed and without my shooters getting busted.

 

“Uh-huh,” Tony responded, only half to Peter as his gears were already spinning. “Peter. Tell me, what do magnets do.”  

 

“Uhm, repel opposite charges?”

 

Tony raised an eyebrow.

 

“And, uh, they can affect electric currents by redirecting them! Right! That’s how motors can work!” Peter yelled, “And so I can apply them to protect my web shooters from electricity from Max!”

 

“There we go!” Tony smiled, “You just need to figure out how to rake through your entire brain; not just get set on one idea.”

 

It didn't take long for the two to magnetize the slinger and test it out, finding it to be successful. After they finished the shooters, the two climbed the stairs and parted ways at Peter’s door. “Good night, Peter” Toy ruffled his son's hair and walked down the hall to his door.

 

“Good night, dad,” Peter smiled at his dad and walked into his room.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People should comment. Because we like motivation. And confirmation that people are actually reading our stuff, if you know what I mean *wink*  
> Thanks for reading~


	6. Chapter 6

Harry paced about his office, trying not to think about everything he just learned, trying not to freak out about his neck. It wasn't working. He reached for his phone, not bothering to look at the time, and pulled up Peter's contact info, pressing the green phone button to dial Peter's number.

The phone began to ring and after a few seconds, a half-awake Peter answered the phone. "Hello?" He groaned into the phone.

"Hey, Pete, we need to talk," Harry said, concern in his voice.

"Is everything okay?" Peter asked, sounding more awake than he had at first.

"Everything is fine, just come to Oscorp as soon as you can," Harry some-what pleaded, ignoring that he was actually lying when he said everything's fine.

"Yeah, sure. What time is it even?" Peter yawned into the phone.

"Late… early... I don't know. I've been up all night." Harry responded, slightly disorientated.

"Okay, just give me a bit. Be there within an hour." Peter replied and Harry could hear some background noise - he was crawling out of bed.

"Hurry," Harry said again before he hung up.

He was on his last energy drink, and over the last forty-eight hours, he had slept in-total probably around three of them. Felicia came in with two cups of coffee. "Good morning, Harry." She said passing off one of the cups to her boss.

"Why are you here?" Harry looked at her, having stopped his steps to fully gawk at her.

"Because I checked to see if you had went home last night and I noticed you  _hadn't_. So I thought you'd be wanting more caffeine with total disregard to your health, even though you totally have time for a quick nap right now."

"Well… Thanks, I guess. I'm having my friend come here in about an hour to talk to him about something. Make sure he gets here." Harry noded and walked into his chambers, plopping onto a couch. He set the coffee on the table nearby and laid down, trying to get some sleep.

He pulled out his phone from his overly-tight jeans and noticed he had a missed call from an unrecognized number and a new voicemail. He frowned and decided to ignore it for now, going to set an alarm to go off in forty five minutes.

After about a half hour, Harry could no longer handle the thoughts racing through his mind about the voicemail and he dialed a one to listen to the message.

"Hey, Harry… You left your scarf at my place in the living room; I wanted to give it back to you, if you still wanted it back…" He heard a shift in the background. "I know you probably  _really_ don't want to be listening to anything I have to say, and you probably won't even listen to this… but I'm worried about how you reacted this morning… And, well, everything, but most importantly  _you_." He paused. "I need to make sure that you know this: I never intended for last night to go as it did. I didn't mean to end up fucking you last night… When we met at the bar, I really  _was_ interested in you in a way that was more than  _just sex_. I wanted to... maybe... start a relationship with you…" He trailed off again before his voice got frantic. "But when you asked if I wanted to go get high, and we went back to my place… and then  _things_ just started  _happening_. And I remember thinking how much I would like to get to know  _you_ , but then I suggested we snort some-" And the voicemail cut off.

 _What? Snort some_ what _?!_  Harry could feel himself losing composure. He pitched his phone across the room. Harry turned and saw Peter stepping into the room, who suddenly became paralyzed as their gazes met. "Peter," Harry whispered. "You're here earlier than I expected."

"Yeah… It took less time to get here than I had thought… What's going on?" He asked, closing the door behind him. Felicia must have directed him to come in his private area and let them have the time behind the door. Peter went to where the hurled iPhone was and picked it up.

Harry gestured for Peter to join him on the couch and Peter was there in a few seconds, handing Harry his now-cracked iPhone. "Shit..."

Peter nodded, not making any comment about how stupid Harry just was. "So, what did you need to tell me?"

"Peter, I'm dying…" Harry stated in a monotone, refusing to look at Peter. "The Osborn curse… I have it." The afflicted man raised his right hand, showing Peter how it shook uncontrollably and then moved his scarf so his infection was visible. "My father told me on his deathbed that it was coming for me… And he gave me every secret he had that kept him alive as long as he lived. But I think I have something he might never have had - at least not fully." Harry stood up, setting his phone on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

"Harry, are you-"

"Come here," Harry hurried Peter back into the office. He took the small cube from his pocket and placed it onto his desk, which became alive.

The desktop glowed and files appeared. Harry navigated to the video of Norman Osborn and Richard Parker. The shake in Norman's hand that held a cane was noticeable, but that wasn't the focus. The idea of creating spiders that could superheal then transferring that to human DNA; it was what was going to save Norman, and what might save Harry. Peter looked down at the end of the video, shocked at the desk and not knowing what to say or how to react.

"Peter. With the spiders. They never got to human trials before Dr. Connors tried turning the city into lizards and got all of this research trashed to restore  _investor confidence_. But I don't know  _how_ , but this guy got the venom in him." Harry threw a newspaper on the desk, covering up the last frame of the video with a picture of Spiderman flying through a few buildings.

Peter appeared dumbstruck by what he was saying.

" _You_  took this picture," The young CEO pressed, placing a finger on the small print in lower righthand corner.

Peter looked taken back, "I don't know him… I just used a camera with a really big lense..."

_He doesn't want to help me, does he…_

"But almost all of the pictures  _of him_  are taken by  _you_. Look, Peter. I  _need_  his blood. You know him, or you know where he'll be. Just ask him. That's all I'm asking"

"Harry, I don't know if that's a good idea. We don't know what the blood does- we don't even know if he has his abilities  _because_ of the spiders. Spiderman is just one guy. Ya know? He might just be like  _Iron Man_  and just have money and a will!"

 _Peter is fucking bullshitting me_. Harry couldn't believe this.

"Then tell me how to find him and  _I'll ask him_!" Harry shouted at his friend.

Peter sighed, "Just find where the trouble is and you'll find him." He turned toward the door.

"Please, Peter..." The boy pleaded to Peter, making him turn back around. He closed the gap between them by lunging and wrapping his arms around Peter's neck while choking back sobs.

He felt the taller boy's arms wrap around his middle and looked up at him. He glanced down toward Peter's lips, his mouth slightly agape. Peter brushed his tongue across it and lightly bit his lip, "I'll talk to him…"

"Thank you..." Harry clung tighter to him and tried quieting his own sobs. Harry felt a soothing hand run up and down his back and tried letting himself relax.

"It will be okay, Harry," Peter said.

"It better be, Pete." Harry sighed and sniffled loudly into Peter's shoulder.

"It will be," Peter repeated more firmly. He leaned away when his phone audibly vibrated. Harry released him as well and wiped away the rest of his tears while Peter looked at his phone. Something changed in his expression, his eyebrows coming together. "I-I have to go." Peter looked into his old pal's eyes, "I'm really sorry, Harry."

"It's okay. Hope to hear from Spiderman soon," Harry forced a crooked smile.

"Text you later, okay?" Peter turned and hurried out of the office.

"Yeah…" Harry muttered to himself.

The rest of Harry's day was horribly long and he could hardly keep himself awake throughout the majority of his meetings. He finished with the last meeting at seven-thirty and decided to call that guy back for his scarf. It was a  _damn fine_  neckpiece, and Harry was going to be needing it with the  _abomination_ that was visible on his neck. Harry picked up his new phone that he had Felicia pick up earlier and dialed his voicemail, getting his number from there. The mystery man picked up after the third ring.

"I didn't expect you to call..." He sounded pleasantly surprised.

"Well, I ahh, wanted my scarf back." Harry mumbled into the phone. "I can meet you where ever."

"How about at Boxers NYC?" The man replied, excitedly naming off a bar.

"I guess that will work." Harry kinda groaned into the phone but was just happy it was a public place and not the guy's apartment. He had been to Boxers before, and it wasn't that bad of a place. It was a gay bar, actually, but there were plenty of older men there to buy him drinks with no questions asked.

"See you there in a half hour?" The eager voice sounded giddy with excitement on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," Harry hung up, not wanting to say proper goodbyes with this guy.

He went back into his chambers and to the bathroom, washing his face, fixing his hair, and brushing his teeth.  _Why am I even bothering right now?_  Harry thought, but kept fixing himself up. He was definitely going to be needing to go home tonight and actually sleep, but he was willing to go to get his scarf before that.

Before he left the bathroom, he contemplated whether he should leave his blazer or not; it was summer, so it was going to be kind of hot out, but at the same time he was going to be in a bar with  _gay guys_. He was going to want to cover himself up if he got in a bad situation, so he decided to take it with him. With another glance in the mirror, Harry made sure that his neck was covered with the scarf Felicia had gotten him. He grabbed his wallet and hid his keycard in one of his inner jacket pockets. He looked at himself one more time in the mirror, trying not to stare at his eye bags.  _I guess this is as good as I'll get...not that it even matters?_

Harry was antsy so he decided to walk from Oscorp to the bar to try and calm himself down. It didn't work, which seemed to be the pattern lately. He walked into the bar about ten minutes later and he scanned the dimly-lit, body-filled room.

A heavy bass dropped as Harry walked to the bar awkwardly, pulling his jacket closer to him even though he felt himself overheating already. He felt overly-exposed in his tight pants that left less to the imagination than Harry would've preferred. He stepped up to the frosted glass countertop that had colored lights that changed hughes in between the panes of glass. Men were grinding on each other on the dance floor, others were in booths, drinking and laughing. He felt a hand press his shoulder. He turned and there was the man. Harry froze for a moment and then said, "Can I just have my scarf so I can leave?" Harry's eyes flicked around the room and he curled into himself more.

"Oh, I was hoping to have a few drinks and talk for a little." The man said hopefully.

"I would just like my scarf," Harry said, trying to hide his fright with a stern facade.

"Harry, darling," The man said softly.

"I don't even know your fucking name." Harry pointed out rudely.

"It's James; do kiss your mother with that mouth?" James's tone was joking towards the end.

"I can't. My mother's dead." Harry said with a flat and controlled face.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry… I didn't-" His elder said as he went to pat his shoulder apologetically.

"It's whatever." Harry backed away from the man's touch and glared, "Just give me my scarf back." Harry heard the music booming in the background and almost felt the desire to dance but he shook the thought from his head.

"Harry, I'm really sorry… Can we talk, please."

"Fine, what the fuck ever! You're buying me a drink." The blond declared harshly.

"Sure," James replied lightly, leading them over to a booth, sliding in on one side, and Harry went in on the other.

A waiter came up to them in a tight pair of boxer briefs that had a tuxedo-suave look to it and a bow tie around his neck. "What could I get for you two fellas?" He smiled, looking between the two.

"Are you hungry?" James asked.

_I haven't eaten all fucking day… And hardly anything yesterday…_

"Yes," he mumbled just loud enough for James to hear over the music.

"Well, pick whatever you want." James, smiled softly as he spoke.

Harry could tell the waiter was getting mildly impatient with them. "Just a pizza and a strawberry daiquiri." Harry said to the waiter quickly.

"Okay, so The Twink. Plain cheese?" Harry nodded and the waiter wrote on a small pad of paper. "And for you?"

"Just a beer." James nodded and the waiter walked off to the next table. "Here's your scarf," he placed the dark grey neckwear on the table for Harry to grab.

Harry pulled it closer to his chest and tangled his fingers into the fabric. "Thanks," was all Harry said as he continued to fidget with it, almost like a small child.

"You're really uncomfortable, aren't you?" James asked with curiosity.

James tore Harry's attention back to him. "What?" Harry was kind of confused at the question.

"How you're acting." He stated, running a hand through his dark curly hair.

Harry stared at him, still not understanding. He set his hands on the table, still knotted in the returned scarf, on the tabletop in front of him.

"You're filtering yourself: trying to hide yourself. If you think no one notices, you're wrong." He set his hand on the table. "And I was only with you  _one night._ "

"Y'know what? Fuck you." Harry hissed, "I was high and drunk and  _I don't know what_!"

James reached out to touch the top of Harry's hand and he slid his hands off the table, keeping them out of reach. He let his eyes wander around the room, so he didn't have to look at the man sitting across from him.

"Harry…" James huffed.

"What?" Harry derided

"I'm worried about you!" Harry opened his mouth to retort back at him but James slammed a hand down on the table. "I know what you're about to say,  _it isn't my place, I don't know you,_ whatever! You seem like you're afraid to be gay, or bi, or whatever you are! It isn't _healthy…_ "

"Well, according to my father, it isn't healthy to be gay  _either_." Tears began to well up Harry's eyes as memories from that day flashed in his head.

"You're being self-destructive while trying to avoid it!" The experienced man yelled.

"What are you, a fucking therapist?" Hot anger began to build up in him and steamy tears threatened to pour from his eyes. The waiter came back with their drinks. Harry looked down at the table silently, trying to avoid the waiter's attention.

"No, I want to get to know you, though." James sighed, nodding as the waiter strutted away.

Harry was now shaking and pulled his drink towards him and his grip continued to tighten around the glass until it fractured, his emotions erupting and boiling over. He ran toward the front doors, pushing through the crowds, not sure if he heard James calling after him. He didn't care if he was. Once he was out the door he ran probably a block and a half before he turned a sharp corner into an alley.

He was breathing heavily, hardly able to breath at this point. He felt nauseous as he dropped to his knees and his digestive system began constricting, trying to vomit. Nothing was in his stomach for him to release at this point, so he was just heaving.

Quickly his vision was blackening and he was slipping in and out of consciousness. He tried getting up, tried to make this stop, but he only fell further and was now on one of his elbows.

After an unknown amount of time - it could've been a half hour, it could've been five minutes - the attempted-retching subsided and the brunette began regaining awareness of where he was. He was in an alley with very little lighting, and even though he was just a few yards for the main sidewalk, he felt very secluded from the rest of the city.  _This would be a bad place to pass out…_

Harry made his way out of the alley slowly, wrapping his blazer closer around him, and getting away from the bar he had just left.  _I do need a drink, though…_  He thought to himself as he headed toward another.

He got inside and asked the bartender, a kind woman that Harry had gotten to know better than he knew most tenders, for three shots.

After his three shots he ordered a beer and left, sipping it as he walked down the street in the direction of his mansion. Eventually, once he finished the alcohol, he hailed a cab down and was dropped off at his "home."

Harry stumbled into his residence, only slightly tipsy.  _I'm such a mess…Just like always, I guess._ Harry sighed as he went up to his room and found his stash of weed along with a lighter and went up to the roof. He rolled a blunt and began to smoke. He was still wearing the clothes Felicia had bought him his eyes were puffy and bloodshot from a mixture of crying and exhaustion. After he finished his first blunt, he passed out.

Spiderman swung by Osborn mansion just to peek and make sure Harry actually had come home. Peter spotted Harry passed out on the roof and saw a door that led back inside. Spiderman carefully scooped Harry into his arms, trying not to wake him and quickly carried him into the family room, covering him with a blanket. Peter raised his mask a little and placed a soft kiss to Harry's forehead before he swung out the window when he noticed Harry's eyes flutter lightly.


End file.
